Questions of Happiness
by thesoundofasmile
Summary: Life moves ever forward. When a special occasion has Emily back in town, Derek begins to wonder just how far forward her life has moved in the time since he last saw her.
_"Happiness is not a goal...it's a by-product of a life well lived." - Eleanor Roosevelt_

* * *

My hands are folded behind my head as I lean back in the chair, my legs extended out in front of me and my ankles crossed. My eyes are fixed on the set of screens on the opposite wall, watching the status of the flight intently. It hasn't changed in the last 20 minutes since it switched from 'on-time' to 'arrived', and I'm getting antsy. Admittedly, I'd probably made things worse for myself by getting here so early in the first place, but I couldn't help myself.

Finally, people begin to filter through the doors, some greeting their loved ones and some heading directly for the exit. It takes me a moment to find her face among the large crowd of weary travellers, and I can't help the smile from spreading on my face when I do. She's here. _She's actually here._

She doesn't spot me right away, but when she does her expression shifts first to shock and surprise and then to happiness. It's been over two years since we last saw each other, and our texts, emails, and phone calls have dwindled significantly in the time since then. It's not for a lack of love – we both still care deeply about each other – it's just that real life has a nasty habit of getting in the way. She's a high up official at INTERPOL, and I'm Unit Chief of the BAU now that Hotch has moved on. If finding time to chat with friends and family in the same city is difficult with our work schedules, finding time to chat with each other is damn near impossible. She's an ocean away, and I'm in a different time zone altogether.

"Well would you look at this!" I say, my grin spreading even wider. "Emily Prentiss, as I live and breathe."

"I thought JJ was picking me up," she says in confusion, her brow furrowed but her eyes alight with a happiness I haven't seen in them for many years.

"Aw, c'mon now, Em. You're already breaking my heart," I tease, watching as she finally reaches me, and drops her bags.

"Shut up," she chastises with a tiny shake of her head, and a wide grin that mirrors my own. Her arms wrap around me and squeeze me tightly.

My grip on her is just as fierce as we both seem to revel in the fact that we're in the same place at the same time for the first time in years. Somehow I can feel every minute of those years that have passed in the hug, and yet it somehow feels like no time has passed at all.

My mind flips back briefly to earlier in the week when Garcia had been explaining the concept of the different languages of love. She had tried to make me do a quiz that would tell me what my love language was, but thankfully I'd been saved by a new case coming in. But it had stuck in my head a bit, the thought rolling around when I let my mind wander.

It's popped up in my mind again, and I'm wondering why Emily's hug is so tight, when she's never been to type to express affection through physical touch. In fact, she'd never really been one for hugs in general. That's not to say she avoided them, or that she never initiated them, because that wasn't the case at all. It just wasn't something that she tended to seek out.

If I had to guess, I'd say she would be one to prefer that people show their love through their actions. That's what would mean the most to Emily. Garcia gets comfort and reassurance from physical contact, but for Emily it's what a person actually _does_ that shows her how much they care.

JJ keeping her secret, me tagging along with her to the home inspection of the house she never bought, and Garcia keeping up with near daily texts and emails and making sure she doesn't stay cooped up in her apartment. These are the kinds of things Emily Prentiss takes to mean we love her. But the more I think about it, the more I realize that us letting her go to London, as painful as it was, probably meant more to her than anything else we'd ever done.

But if Emily Prentiss wasn't one for tight and drawn out hugs…what had led to her doing just that here in the _airport_ of all places? Maybe my friend had changed in her time away from all of us. Maybe she wasn't the woman who'd left us all behind to chase some peace in her life.

"Man, I've missed you, Princess," I murmur into her hair as I squeeze her tightly, still wrapping my mind around the fact that she's _here_.

"I've missed you too," she answers quietly. Her tone is apologetic and guilt-laden, and I find myself unsurprised by this. She's always been that way. Okay, maybe not everything had changed.

"Flight was okay?" I ask as we both finally release our hold on each other. I lean over and snatch her bags before she can grab them, shooting her an impish grin, knowing it will get a rise out of her.

Her eyes narrow briefly at my actions before she apparently decides to let it slide and begins walking. "Not quite as nice as flying around in a private jet…"

I let out a deep belly laugh. "We ruined you for regular air travel, didn't we?"

"Sadly, yes. Even though I splurged for a first class ticket, it still had nothing on the jet," she says, a hint of longing in her tone. "Although being able to drink the booze is a significant point in its favour," she adds cheekily.

"First class, huh?" I say, shaking my head in amusement. "Living up to your nickname there, Princess?"

"The leg room alone makes it worth it," she answers, choosing to ignore my teasing.

And just like that, even though we hadn't spoken in months and hadn't seen each other in years, it's as though nothing has changed. I find myself staring, but I can't help it. She's aged a bit, yes, but she still looks like the Emily Prentiss that left all those years ago. The same Emily Prentiss that stood in Rossi's living room, trying to explain to me why she had to go.

"You okay there, Derek?" she asks, her brow furrowing as she tries to capture my attention.

"Huh? Oh, sorry," I say quickly, a little embarrassed to have been caught up in my staring. "I just can't believe you're here," I explain.

Her expression shifts to an apologetic one for a fleeting moment before she grins and punches me lightly on the arm. "As if I'd miss your wedding, buddy."

I easily return her grin with one of my own. "I'm just saying, it's been a long time."

"Too long," she agrees. "I'm sorry about that. I know we made plans many times over the last few years, but I always let work get in the way."

I shrug. "I get it - we've both been busy. That's what comes with being the boss. And in our line of work, making plans far in advance can be a bit tough. Besides, I did my fair share of cancelling plans too."

She doesn't reply, but keeps walking toward the sliding doors leading to the exit, telling me that she's not keen to continue discussing the topic. I'm thinking it's because she's got some guilt built up about it. I would imagine that it's not too dissimilar to the guilt I've got inside of me for essentially pushing her – one of my best friends – aside for my career.

We stay quiet until we're in the car, when she breaks the silence. "So the perpetual bachelor finally decided to settle down, huh?"

I glance over to find a teasing grin on her face. "What can I say? She makes giving up the single life worth it."

She smiles warmly at my words. "I'm glad. It's about time you settled down with someone who makes you happy."

"Have you and my mother been talking?" I ask, an eyebrow arching playfully. "'Cause she told me the exact same thing."

"It's a woman's intuition," she replies easily, a little laugh accompanying her words. "If she's made you want to settle down, she must be one hell of a woman."

"Oh, she definitely is."

"She keeps you in line?" I nod. "Makes you happy?" I nod again. "Good. You've been through enough shit in your life – you deserve to get a happy ending."

"I think we all have," I reply thoughtfully. It's true. I think we've all earned the right to a peaceful and happy rest of our lives.

"Mmm," she hums in agreement, turning her gaze out the window.

We fall into silence again, our words about peace and happily ever afters lingering in the air. It's strange to think that just a few years ago, the very concept of a happily ever after for any of us was not even a distant thought.

"I think you'll like her," I say finally.

"Yeah?" she replies, her eyebrows rising slightly - as though she's a little surprised by that idea. It's a bit strange - and maybe even ridiculous - that one of my best friends hasn't met the woman I'm about to marry. But Emily moving to London had left us all trying to adjust to her not being in our lives in the same way. And as the days, weeks, months, and eventually years passed, her presence in our lives shrunk.

"Mmhmm," I hum in reply. "You guys have the same twisted sense of humour."

She frowns. "It's not twisted."

"Whatever," I say, waving off her protest. "My point is, I think you're gonna like her."

"Well hopefully, otherwise I'll have to tell all your guests there won't be a wedding," she jokes, a little laugh accompanying her words.

A laugh of my own escapes and I glance over to find her grinning widely. It doesn't take my profiling skills to see she's missed this banter as much as I have. Even though my mind is firmly focused on my wedding taking place in a few days, I can't help but be glad to have Emily back in my life for a few days. Truthfully, I've missed my friend.

"Hey, my hotel is the other direction," she says with a frown when she realizes we're not headed in the right direction.

"Well spotted, sherlock. I'm not taking you to your hotel."

Her brow furrows in confusion. "What? What do you mean you're not taking me to my hotel?"

"I know you're probably pretty tired, but there are a few people who desperately wanted to see you, and just couldn't wait until tomorrow…"

She lets out a sigh, but I spy the small smile forming. "Just please tell me your fiancée isn't going to be there…" It's my turn to frown this time, but before I can voice the question, she answers it. "I'd really like to meet her when I haven't just spent hours on a plane and can string together words without having to think too hard about it."

I shake my head as I let out another laugh. "Don't worry, Princess. She's gonna love you, jet-lagged or not."

* * *

I don't see Emily again for a couple of days, since Garcia and JJ have all but kidnapped her. That, and the fact that my mom and Savannah's mother have me driving all over the place to complete these last minute errands for the wedding. In fact, it's not until the night before the big day, at the rehearsal dinner that I manage to snag a minute with her, away from Garcia and JJ.

She's leaning back onto the railing that overlooks the garden, but her gaze is fixed on the night sky. I scan her features quickly and find that her expression is...sad? or maybe it's just contemplative? I'm honestly not sure. It's been so long since I've had to try and read her...

"Sky's nice and clear tonight," I comment as I join her and lean on the railing, turning my gaze skyward. The stars are twinkling brightly, and it really is a beautiful setting.

"Yeah," she answers, her tone a little quieter than I'm used to.

"You see the stars much in London?"

She shakes her head. "Too much light pollution. And if it's not too bright, it's overcast."

"You should get out of the city," I reply after a moment.

Maybe I mean it more than just her driving to get out of downtown. Maybe I mean she should make the journey across the ocean a little more often. Maybe I mean she shouldn't have walked out of our lives. Maybe I mean I'd like to have her back in my life more frequently.

"Maybe," she agrees with a slight nod. She turns around and leans back against the railing, her gaze finding mine. "So Savannah seems nice."

"You think?"

She nods. "You two fit well together. Both goofy enough to enjoy life, but serious enough about each other to make it work."

"Huh. Never thought of it that way."

"Does this mean you're going to finally grant your mother's wish for grandbabies?" she asks, a wide grin spreading on her face.

In the seconds it takes me to blink and process her words, I'm already considering spilling the beans. Oddly, I hadn't felt the need or desire to tell Penelope, or JJ, or even Reid. But for some reason, it just feels like telling Emily is…right.

Maybe it's the security of knowing she'll be holding Savannah and my secret miles upon miles away, or maybe it's because I've missed her as my sounding board. Or maybe it's because I desperately need to hear her tell me that me becoming a dad makes sense.

Whatever the reason, I decide to go for broke. "Well…actually…"

Her eyes widen. "Really?"

I nod. "We haven't told anyone," I explain quietly. "Not even the grandparents."

Her head shakes ever so slightly in surprise at my words, but she recovers quickly. "Congratulations, Derek. This is... It's just… It's perfect for you."

My brow furrows at her reply. Perfect for me?

She hastens to explain, shifting so she's facing me. "When you care about someone, you care about them so fiercely, and in such a way that it makes them feel safe. I could stand here and list all the qualities off for you, but your ego definitely doesn't need any more stroking. It's already the size of Texas," she teases, pausing to shoot me a cheeky grin. "But it's plain as day that you were meant to be a father, Derek. Everyone can see that."

I smile when she finishes, genuinely moved by her words. "I just hope I don't screw it up," I say with a forced laugh, my anxiety not buried too far beneath the surface.

"Don't drop it on its head, and you're fine," she deadpans, before her face breaks into a wide grin.

"This means you're going to have to come back and visit more often, you know that, right? I want my child to know their Aunt Emily."

She smiles, and reaches over to give my clasped hands a gentle squeeze. "You got it, buddy."

We fall into silence, our gazes eventually turning skyward once more. It hits me in that moment that Emily hadn't brought a date for the wedding. And JJ and Penelope hadn't mentioned any guys in her life… I know work keeps her busy, but does she have anyone?

"So, how's London?" I ask, easing into the conversation that I want to have. Anyone who's spent any time with Emily knows that she'll shut off if you attack her straight on. You have to ease into things with her.

"Rainy, as always. Quite dreary, most of the time as you can probably imagine. But there are moments when the sun actually shines and I remember why I love living there."

"And actual _life_ in London? How's that?" I ask, not missing the fact that she'd deftly avoided the question by proffering an answer that's technically not off topic.

She grins sheepishly. "Busy. We're juggling a fair few operations right now, so I'm on call basically 24/7. In fact, I wasn't sure I'd be able to sneak away for a few days. I'm half expecting my cell to go off during the ceremony. Don't worry, I'll keep it on silent," she finishes with a light laugh.

I indulge her attempt at humour, but steer the conversation back to more serious matters. "I'm glad you're here, Em. I know you're a busy woman, but it means a lot that you came all this way."

She offers a small, almost graceful smile. "Like I said at the airport, I wouldn't have missed this for the world."

We settle into another silence, and I decide to try and broach the subject in a direct and yet playful way. "So what about you? Having much luck finding the right Mr. Prentiss?"

She lets out a laugh. "No, no. I think I'll leave the whole white picket fence thing to you and JJ."

"You're not looking to settle down?"

She answers in the form of a question, her eyebrow arched. "Does _anything_ about me scream 'settle down'?"

"Hey, I was known as _the_ bachelor of Quantico, and I'm getting married tomorrow, so that argument doesn't fly."

She covers her mouth as she tries to stifle a laugh. I shoot her a look. "I'm sorry, but...the bachelor of Quantico? I think we both know Rossi had that position locked up years before you came along."

"I suppose so," I concede. "But the fact remains - that argument doesn't hold any weight."

She shrugs. "I guess I'm not really looking."

I don't reply, but hold her gaze. It's not that I think she _needs_ to get married. Not by any means. I just wonder if she's lonely over there.

"Were you looking?" she asks.

I shake my head. "Definitely not. Hell, Garcia had to explain to me why I was so damn upset when Savannah had to up and leave me one morning to go to work."

"Ha! After all the times that you probably had to cancel dates and leave in the middle of the night for cases?"

"I know, I know," I grumble. "I've already had this conversation a few times over."

"Sorry - but you can see how it's a little funny, right?"

"I guess," I grudgingly concede. "I suppose the fact that she stuck with me for so long even despite all of that was a pretty strong sign she wasn't like any of the other woman I'd dated."

"You can say that again," she says with a small teasing smile.

We're interrupted by loud noises coming from inside the restaurant, where everyone else is chatting and enjoying drinks. Apparently Penelope is in the midst of an amusing story, because she's got quite the group in front of her, all paying rapt attention to her and laughing boisterously every so often.

I turn my attention back to Emily once the group quiets down a bit. "What about you, Em?" I ask, my tone soft as I try and meet her gaze.

Her eyes move down slowly from the sky to find mine. "What about me?"

"Are you living your happy ending?"

She doesn't answer right away, and turns her gaze toward the night sky again. I feel my heart sink at her lack of response.

"I'm happy in London," she finally says.

I let her answer linger in the air for a moment. Her tone was convincing, but perhaps not as much as I would've liked.

"Are you lonely?"

"What's with the third degree?" she fires back with a small frown that is genuine, but it slips away as quickly as it appears, replaced by a half smile. Clearly I hit a sore spot.

I offer a small smile in apology. "Sorry. I just think about you all by yourself over there, and-"

"You know, London has a population of something like eight and half million people," she interrupts.

"Well thank you, Dr. Reid," I reply with a roll of my eyes. "But I think you know what I meant."

"I have friends, Derek. I'm not a loner."

"I wasn't suggesting you were," I protest.

"You _just_ asked if I was lonely. I think we both know the suggestion was there."

"You're putting words in my mouth now."

"Technically I'm putting a suggestion in your mouth," she fires back, a cheeky grin on her face. Deflection again.

I let out a sigh and shake my head lightly.

"I meant what I said, Derek. I'm happy in London. I miss you guys, of course, but this is sort of how I've always been."

"Doesn't have to be that way," I point out.

She shrugs. "My time with you guys was not the norm for me. When I joined the BAU, I came in having spent many years as wholly and completely independent and without any real family or friends."

I frown at her words. Sounds like a very lonely way to live. "Sounds lonely."

"Not when you're used to it. Sean, Clyde, and Tsia were probably as close to real friends as I got, but it's tough to keep people close when you know you're going to be hunting terrorists and spending months on end immersing yourself in that world."

She meets my gaze then, and her expression is crestfallen. "I'm sorry," she apologizes, "it's the night before your wedding, you don't want to be hearing this."

I shake my head immediately. "Hey, c'mon now," I say, reaching over to cup her face with one hand and turn it to face me. "You're one of my best friends, Em. The fact that I'm getting married tomorrow doesn't mean we can't talk about this. I miss you, and I worry that you're over there working your ass off and forgetting to live."

I give her a moment to let my words sink in by turning to look through the windows of the restaurant. JJ catches my gaze and gives me a concerned look when she notices Emily (and my own concerned expression no doubt). I shake my head and shoot her a smile. I see her eyes narrow briefly before she appears to accept my answer and turns her attention back to her conversation with Reid.

"I want you to get your happy ending too, Em," I say softly.

"I'm happy there, Derek. I really am," Emily says after a moment. "I kind of hate that I had to leave you all to find that, but I'm happy there."

"Okay," I say with a nod.

"I have a life there now. A job I love, a huge city to explore, and friends to satisfy my need to drink too much wine and indulge in girly gossip on occasion."

I smirk at her words, memories surfacing of a very hungover JJ, Garcia, and Emily trying to quiet the world as they explained how office hearsay and gossip led to way too much drinking.

"And I've been spending more time with Clyde."

"Easter?" I ask, my eyebrows rising in surprise. I'd gotten the impression that Easter was never more than an infuriating boss and trusted colleague for her. I never pictured the two of them being friends. Unless...maybe it's even more than that?

"Yes," she confirms with a nod. "He's been delegating a lot of his job to make some time to enjoy life, which apparently for him is bothering me endlessly until I give in and agree to go to dinner with him."

"So you and him…" I trail off, leaving the question unasked, and yet very clear.

"Oh god, no," she says, her head shaking quickly. "No, definitely not. We're just friends."

"Friends?"

She nods again. "I never really thought it would happen, but he and I have a lot in common, and we can talk about a lot of the stuff we can't talk about with other people."

"I get that," I say with a nod. "I thought you weren't a big fan of his though. Pompous British asshole, I think is how you once described him."

She shrugs. "People change. He's mellowed quite a bit over the last few years. And I do owe him my life a couple times over…"

I take a moment to let those words sink in. He'd saved her life? More than once? I spent all those years working alongside her, and yet it still seems like there's so much I don't know about her.

"Hey," she says softly, reaching a hand over and placing it on top of mine, "you're still the best partner I ever had. I miss kicking down doors and staring down unsubs with you."

"Yeah?"

"Definitely. Nothing quite like it."

"Very true," I agree with a nod.

We lapse into another silence, our talk of years gone by reminiscent of a time when an ocean hadn't separated us.

"So, the perpetual player, Derek Morgan, is getting married," she teases, a laugh straining under her words. "Next thing you know you'll be driving the local carpool to soccer practice."

My eyes widen as I consider that image. "If you ever catch me considering buying a minivan, please whisk me away to London."

She laughs, and it's a deep and full laugh. One that's full of life and happiness and genuine joy. "You got it, buddy," she says, leaning over with a wide grin and bumping my shoulder with hers.

I return the smile and consider that she really might actually be happy. Maybe she really did make the right decision a few years back. Maybe she's finally made peace with the turmoil and guilt that haunted her. Maybe she's finally moved past it all.

I think a small part of me had always believed – or _wanted to believe –_ that she'd made a rash decision accepting Easter's offer and up and running off to London. But talking with her today...I think she really is happy. The small pit of concern and worry that had settled there when I arrived at the airport to pick her up finally begins to dissipate, and I embrace her visit for what it is - another chance to make sure we don't lose touch.

* * *

 _Thoughts? Please let me know!_


End file.
